Inquisitormaster Fan Art 소설 & 이야기

Ani sat on a chair across from her, sprawled in that careless, elegant way that gods probably invented. Corvus perched on the arm of the couch, tearing meat from a bone Ani tossed to him, his black eyes glinting. Ani didn’t reply, which seemed to irk Nyx. “Your Muse thinks you were imprisoned,” she continued, her tone accusatory. “What is that all about? No prison can hold you, Master! You can’t---!”

I admitted to myself, I wasn't entirely comfortable with that image. On the other hand, wasn't that how it was for Master now? He was working with Jerry today. Every time he saw Jerry, did he visualize him with my lips wrapped around his black prick? I imagined he did. We thought alike, which helped make our marriage work. Did Master feel the same pangs I imagined whenever he saw his friend, and wouldn't he see them for the rest of his life? Nor, was my slavery over yet. In the next two weeks, who knew what else I would do if faced with his choices? At some point, would Master be seeing mental images of his wife fucked in the cunt or ass. If Master could live with those images in order to gi

Send me your recommendations. While I perform my edits (which should take a few weeks, though I’ll try to be fast), I’ll be brushing up on my drawing and painting skills and creating art around the characters of the novel itself. If you want to check out my progress in this regard, follow me on TikTok - I’ll be showcasing digital artwork through there. Just look me up via my name - CeritusOrbis. Give me a follow and all that. But what about afterwards, you might ask…

She felt herself like a pig who had been taken good care of before she was slaughtered, and they were fattening her! She had a feeling that time was running out! "How's she doing today?" The so called master was in a wheelchair, dressed in an ink-colored Chinese Tang suit, as if he were in the middle of a landscape. There was a red tiny mole below the corner of his left eye. He looked slothful but very charming. "She's very quiet, very obedient!" "Is that so? It's really not like what's described in these materials!" All the materials of Jean were placed on his desk. He picked up the publicity photo of "Dreamcraft", in which Jean was dressed up as the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox.

I anxiously told him. “He did what?” His tone raised and he looked like he was ready to come back and beat the shit out of Thomas again. “I-I don’t know, he looked like he was obsessed but that was the first time I saw him so I don’t understand,” I claimed. “Fangbangers,” Master whispered, so I didn’t hear it clearly because I noticed that he was clenching his fists again. “He was not obsessed with you, but your scent and sex, he’s like…a rapist,” Master told me, which made me stop.

Unbeknownst to her, her timid, animal-like presence, skittish, wide-eyed, and radiating raw fragility had caught the unwavering attention of the Head Master. He stood at the far end of the bar, a towering figure exuding authority in a tailored black shirt that hugged his broad, muscular shoulders, his expression perpetually unreadable behind a neatly trimmed beard that added to his enigmatic allure. Known simply as "The Owner" or "Head Master" to the bar's elite clientele, he was a legend in this underground world—ruthless in his control, yet revered for his unwavering fairness and deep understanding of the human psyche.

I had to, just so Master wouldn't punish me. Instead of moving it, helping me through my orgasm, Master stepped back and surveyed his work. His eyes traveled from the clamps on my chest, down to the gel shining in my navel, to where the steel handle of the plug jutted from between my ass cheeks, nestled against the frame. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. It wasn't warmth. It was satisfaction. The look of an artist appraising his panting. “You're a work of art," he said, proving my assumption right. The awe in his voice didn't match the hotness in his gaze.

“Ahhh—Master—!” “You like that?” Jerald murmured, leaning down, voice dripping into her ear like hot honey. “You like when I spank your disobedient ass raw, Cupcake?” Her body jerked, her fingers twisting into the sheets. “Y–yes… ahh—yes, Master…” “That’s right.” His hand ran over her now-flushed ass cheek, soothing and threatening at the same time. “You sound so fucking sweet when you moan. Like a needy little whore who knows who her little needy body belongs to.”

"I took a chance. Julia looked over my shoulder, and waved her body in favor of music, approaching. "I know a lot about your master," she said, closing her eyes. "He used to come here with his wife, and when she died, he cut off any contact with the club. Until Madame Tracey called him to be his right arm, and that gave him space for him to take other subs. You are not the first, but you are the only one who returned to his command. They say he is one of the best for certain types of subs.